Stay Dead

She lied.

That's been made apparent tonight.

She was never okay.

She had never truly recovered from last year's events, and it's almost impressive how well she hid it.

Her frantic dash toward the Women's Championship, was a final, desperate ploy to recapture power snatched from her grasp.

Someone called her bluff in a catastrophic way.

Her compound, what's left of it, anyway, wasn't rebuilt in some grand fashion as she proclaimed. Walls are still blackened from the explosion, and plywood is nailed over windows that couldn't afford to be repaired.

And yet another fire burns.

If the first siege needed an army, an alliance, a child could have wandered here tonight to finish the job.

If the first siege was already a killing blow to Tailcoat Val's operations, this was a headshot to a decapitated corpse.

If the first siege cost Val an eye, what will this take from her?

She's already been ambulance'd away from the scene--in much worse shape than a right hook from Spade could ever hope to accomplish.

But if all the members of the first siege have been accounted for, who took it upon themselves to do this?

Only a note left behind offers an answer:

"Keep my name out of your mouth."